


The Price of Perfection

by JustAndrea



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018)
Genre: AU: Draxum raises the Turtles, Fighting, Gen, Implied Bad Ending, Implied abuse, Killing (but not graphically described), Sparring, Violence, dark au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28835412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAndrea/pseuds/JustAndrea
Summary: Although things didn't start off according to plan, Baron Draxum had done everything he could to assure that his creations were the greatest warriors that ever lived.Unfortunately, Draxum had spent so much time focusing on this goal that he hadn't stopped to think about what could happen once his turtles actually became great warriors...
Relationships: Baron Draxum & Splinter | Lou Jitsu, Baron Draxum & the Turtles, Raphael & Donatello & Leonardo & Michelangelo (TMNT)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	The Price of Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I'm not usually one for writing dark AUs, preferring to just discuss them with a friend whenever I'm in an angsty mood, but this was an AU that kept popping up in my head. Since the idea of Draxum either raising the turtles from creation or getting the opportunity to try and turn them into his warriors is a fairly popular one in the fandom, I decided to do my own take on it. This is a pretty long one, but like I said I just HAD to get it out of my head. So, I hope you all enjoy!

Baron Draxum, he could admit to himself, had been foolish to think that the Great Lou Jitsu wouldn’t put up a fight. But as far as Jitsu was concerned, _he_ was a fool to think that he could win. No… Draxum would come out on top. He was sure of it...

They both fought valiantly, but as it turned out, Jitsu was not only resourceful but a dirty fighter as well. The aftershock of his machine being destroyed and his other experiments being freed had disoriented Draxum somewhat, but Jitsu ended up getting caught in the crosshairs as well.

Lou had tried his best to make it through the flames, the baby turtles still in his arms… But it seemed his usual luck and sense of perfect timing had finally run out. The fire suddenly flared, completely blocking his path - and from above, the castle’s ceiling began to fall upon the human, heavy and hard and deadly. Through all the noise and the roar of the fire, he heard the yokai shout something that he couldn’t quite make out.

Too slow to do anything else and yet still desperate to do _something_ , Lou did all he could to protect the turtles he was holding. Tucking them in close, he allowed his own body to take the brunt of the falling debris...

Lou had blacked out briefly, the pain of being half-crushed being greater than any pain he had felt in the Nexus. When he came to, the turtles were whimpering in fear and the yokai-alchemist standing over him, having already cleared most of the rubble off his broken body.

Despite his haggard breaths, Lou mustered a glare. “You… cannot… take them…”

“I am afraid that this is not your choice to make, Lou Jitsu,” Draxum glared back, the blue flames behind them continuing to burn despite the teeny gargoyles doing their best to try and put them out. Lou coughed at the smoke, and nearly blacked out again. He could hardly breathe now, but he had to stay awake-!

“You may be a skilled warrior, but you’re still a fool, Lou Jitsu,” Draxum glowered, “What’s worse, you’re still a _human._ ” He silently cursed himself for ever feeling admiration and respect towards him. “You dare destroy my home? Try to steal my creations?! Hmph, perhaps I should have expected this… But not even the Great Lou Jitsu can stop my plans now.”

Plans… In his pain-filled haze, Lou remembered how the Baron had only seemed to see these innocent turtles as weapons - as an army he could use to accomplish whatever evil plans he had. “N-No, please… they are just- just babies!” Lou sputtered out, wheezing, “Y-you cannot tu- turn them into monsters!”

The orange eyes of the sheepman glowed brighter at that, his expression now full of rage. “You really ARE human, aren’t you… You and your kind look at yokai and you see us as _beasts_ that need to be hunted down or pushed underground! Who are _you_ to decide that yokai shouldn’t be permitted to use the land that was used by both of us? That yokai shouldn’t be allowed to exist just because you see us as a threat?!”

“...” Breathing shallowly now, just barely feeling the squirming creatures in his arms and the damp puddle underneath him, Lou still managed to look sympathetic - an expression that only further enraged the Baron. “Yo… y-yokai should exist but… so should h-humans… you can’t… they are inno… innocent… don’t even… know you exist…”

Lou coughed again, making the baby turtles whimper and cry out. They really were just children… his children, with his DNA, and he had failed them. “P-please, don’t…” he managed to say, his eyes wet, “do-on’t… hurt them…”

Draxum clenched his fists at the subtle accusation. “Humans really do only see the worst in us… but that hardly matters now. Those mutants you’re holding may technically be half-human, but in due time, they will become the greatest heroes my people have ever seen! And you, Lou Jitsu… you and your humans will be nothing more than a memory…”

With that, Draxum took the turtles - _his_ turtles - out of Lou’s weakened grip. Even as he laid dying, Lou still tried to reach out for them, but Draxum simply turned away.

It was a shame… even after everything, Draxum’s thoughts continued to remind him of the man Lou Jitsu was. His skill, his strength, his fire and determination. Truly the best of the best… It was a shame he wasn’t born a yokai. Maybe then they could have been- 

…At the very least, those positive traits would live on in his creations and would be put towards a more noble cause than a certain Jorogumo‘s silly Battle Nexus.

Speaking of which - “Take the body far away from here,” Draxum ordered his newest gargoyle assistants once the fires were mostly out, “Make sure it can’t be traced back here.” The last thing he needed was Big Mama coming after him for revenge. He already had enough to deal with...

The pair of Goyles saluted and flew over to Jitsu’s body, quietly discussing between themselves where they should take it (and how to carry it so that it didn’t weigh them down too much). As they did this, Draxum’s eyes turned towards the pods that formerly held the late warrior and his creations.

Of course he would need to recreate the experiment eventually. Whether it would be used to create more mighty mutant warriors or to simply push humans into a new… ‘perspective’ as it were while at the same time evening out the numbers between the two species, Draxum wasn’t yet sure. It would likely take years to recreate the ooze anyway, and he had a different goal now.

A bit more settled though still somewhat upset, the turtles snuggled up to his armored chest, clinging to any sense of comfort they could find. In a moment of softness, Draxum gently petted each of their tiny, green heads with his thumb.

He sighed. “If I had my way, you four wouldn’t even be conscious right now…” If the experiment hadn’t been interrupted, they would’ve stayed intubated until the end of their second stage of adolescence to assure that they absorbed as many nutrients and developed as much as possible. If he tried putting them back in now, there was a chance he could stunt their growth, not to mention a whole array of other possible side effects.

“It doesn’t matter,” Draxum insisted to both them and himself. This was far from a failure, he would just have to go about it a little differently. Train them a little earlier than planned, take it upon himself to make sure they grew strong and developed properly, and when the time was right, they would fight - and it would be glorious.

The alchemist smiled as he continued to hug the turtles to his chest. “My perfect creations…”

\-----------------------

As it turned out, gargoyles weren’t only reliable assistants, but they were apparently decent nannies too.

For the first couple years of the Turtles’ lives, they would watch them like hawks, assuring that no other enemies (human or yokai with a possible alliance with Big Mama) would try to kidnap them. When one began to cry or need something, they would simply pacify them until their boss arrived to take over.

Draxum meanwhile would handle everything else, from making sure the babies’ diets were effective, to making sure the babies themselves were healthy, to even taking time to interact with them and guide them in limb-strengthening exercises. He did this in-between rebuilding his lab and trying to recreate his work, but after a certain point, the Turtles began to take priority.

That point came in three years time, when all of the Turtles were able to not only walk on two legs and understand commands, but also keep a good grip on their toys - toys which were quickly replaced with child-safe training weapons.

Of course, as eager as he was, Draxum knew he had to be patient with his little warriors, not wanting to break them before they could reach their potential. Besides, it wouldn’t matter how long their training took in the long run as long as it was completed. 

They were still destined to be great - they were still his beautiful, incredible, perfect creations… all he had to do was help that perfection shine through.

With that in mind, he gave them their dull and edged-down weapons, and began leading them in the simple exercises he had taught himself over five hundred years ago when he first decided to become a warrior. 

His creations, eager to please and excited to learn, mimicked as best they could. Their skills were still basic and somewhat uncoordinated obviously, but they were there, and Baron Draxum couldn’t have been happier.

“In due time, you will all be great,” he insisted, “My perfect creations.”

\---------------------------

It was easy to just group them as “the turtles” or “his creations”, but as they grew, Draxum acknowledged that they weren’t quite as identical as he imagined them to be. So, names were in order.

The oldest and spikiest of his creations would be Randolph.

The one with red and yellow stripes would be Lysander.

The softshell with purple markings would be Dante.

Finally, his youngest with the orange and yellow spotting would be Milius.

Although, even with these names in place, Draxum still tended to refer to them as “turtles” or “my creations” most of the time, but why wouldn’t he? They were a perfect unit, a team in training, an army that would no doubt be strong enough to face any force. No reason to separately refer to them unless he needed to. 

But at the very least, the turtles seemed to like their new names.

\-------------------------

When minds are young, vague concepts like “destiny” and “hero” don’t go very far, which meant that training sessions were instead easily treated like games. 

Something like performing a perfect set of katas for their creator was nothing more than an elaborate game of Simon Says. Over time, learning these stances and moves wasn’t too much of a struggle, and any improvements that they made occurred through just a bit of extra effort on their part. This seemed to further emphasize to the four turtles that their training was less like actual work and more like a way to hone the natural set of skills that they already possessed.

Of course, they still had to take it seriously on the surface, holding back their giggles and smiles to assure the Baron that they were remaining focused so that he didn’t scold them. But once the exercise is over and they’ve won their little games, Draxum rewarded them each with brief head pats and words of praise. 

They are strong, he tells them. They are growing more skilled every day. They are _perfect_.

As such, Draxum hardly had to order them to line up after a while. They did so without hesitation, insisting on training as much as possible each day, and were only convinced to stop for food and brief rest. In their home, training quickly became the only thing to do, for multiple reasons.

But even perfect warriors couldn’t fight forever, and after the turtle tots were all tuckered out, Draxum easily carried them all back to their nest of blankets and bedding to rest while the Goyles cleaned up the training room. He continued to give them praise and encouragement as they drifted off. 

“It’ll all be worth it,” he quietly tells them, “One day, all of yokai-kind will have us to thank for their salvation…”

These words faded in and out like half-lucid dreams. Being thanked sounds nice, but in all honesty, the little turtles just couldn’t wait to wake up so they could get back to training and playing...

\---------------------------

It was six years to the day since their creation when Draxum finally showed them the face of their future enemies. 

And, for the first time in their lives, the turtles realized that there was a world - TWO whole worlds - outside their castle. They watched with wide eyes, looking at all the buildings and things and colors and people. So many people...

“...They don’t seem that evil,” Milius said quietly, placing his hand on the observation orb. It’s surface rippled slightly, distorting the faces of the humans who were unaware that they were being watched.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Draxum said as he took his youngest’s hand off the orb. He glared at the image, angry at the humans for having the luxury of a short lifespan. They could simply continue on with their lives, repopulate the surface and forget about the wars and their former neighbors that their ancestors had attacked and banished on a whim. 

But Draxum would never forget.

“Centuries ago, yokai and humans were able to live side-by-side on the surface. We co-existed, and there was peace between our people…. But then humans turned their backs on us,” he told them, “They suddenly became hostile. They were suspicious of us, calling us monsters and accusing us of being demons, and eventually… they began to fight us for our territory. There were several battles, it nearly became a war… But in the end, yokai were forced to migrate underground to prevent any further bloodshed. That is why it’s your duty to reclaim the surface for us, and make things right.”

Randolph grimaced as he fidgeted with his hands. “And… we’ll have to fight all of them? Every single human?” he asked nervously. Suddenly, fighting wasn’t just a game anymore…

Still, he was calmed when Draxum gave him a couple pets on the head. “Do not lose confidence, child,” he told Randolph, “In due time, you four will be stronger and more skilled than _any_ human. It is your destiny, and nobody will stand in your way.”

“What about other yokai?” Lysander asked, able to turn his gaze away from the glass orb. (His twin was still staring at it, too fascinated and curious to look away.) “Will they fight with us?”

“Perhaps… But it will still be you four that shall lead them,” Draxum insisted, moving his hand from Randolph’s head to Lysander’s shell. “I created you all to be not only strong, but skilled. The greatest warriors of all time, the perfect specimens. You should all rely on yourselves, not others. When the time comes, yokai-kind will turn to you. Understand?”

“I guess,” Lysander mumbled, his own gaze moving from the floor of his baron’s study, to the window that only offered a small glimpse of the Hidden City from afar. He had to wonder… Who decided it was their destiny to be great heroes, and why did the yokai need to be saved anyway? Huginn and Muninn were yokai too, right, and they seemed pretty happy, so…

Despite their own concerns and questions, the four turtles remained silent. This ‘destiny’ was just another rule, and if they didn’t want to get scolded, they would have to follow it. But things would be okay. They were the best, after all. They were perfect, so why worry too much about a fight that was years away?

They were perfect, just like the Baron had said. They would be okay.

\----------------------

Each new day brought progress. Each session brought improvement, as well as both praise and critique. Each month there were new skills to be learned and perfect, and each year there was significant growth to be seen.

In time, Draxum stopped being so hands on with his teaching. Instead, he’d simply stand to the side and watch them. He’d give them goals for that particular session or make comments, but the rest was up to them.

As the rock golem he created for them to fight roared, Randolph and Milius raced to face it head on while Dante and Lysander fell back a bit, not out of fear but wanting to instead try to find a new angle to fight their opponent. Unfortunately for him, the golem was not very patient.

With a mighty fist, it smashed the ground, forcing the turtles to jump up in an attempt to avoid getting caught up in the shockwave. At the last second, Dante threw his bo at the giant, activating the blade at the end of it, but it was easily smacked away. The golem had taken to the offense now, and while they had all gotten good at blocking and defending, the boys knew they couldn’t run forever.

Draxum narrowed his eyes a bit. “Stand your ground, and find a way,” he reminded them. Even at a young age, they could all read between his words: _You’re all better than this. You’re strong enough to win. Don’t disappoint me._

Gripping his set of weapons tightly, Milius decided to give one the moves he had been working on a shot. He had been dying to test out the chain extensions on his training nunchucks anyway. Staying light on his feet to avoid the cracks now in the floor, he leapt up.

The golem glowered at him as it threw yet another heavy punch - one that was just slow enough for Milius to wrap one of his nunchucks around and land on top of. Smiling (and more than a little thankful that he had two nunchucks instead of one), Milius took aim once again, and-

Suddenly, there was a battle cry, and then the sound of metal hitting rock. Being so focused on Milius, the golem hadn’t even noticed Lysander climbing up the training room walls behind it, preparing for a sneak attack. 

The golem briefly cried out once it felt the slash, the turtle’s blade not quite sharp enough to decapitate it but still cutting pretty deep, and then felt silent as it crashed to the ground. Before it fell, Milius leapt off the creature’s arm, a pout clearly on his face.

“Whoa, nice one, Lysander!” Randolph said, with Dante looking pretty impressed as well.

Lysander preened under the praise. “Yep! Just like I knew it would work. You’re welcome!”

“But I already had a plan that could’ve worked,” Milius spoke up, “I could’a beaten it myself maybe, or-”

“Well, you were a good distraction,” Lysander offered with a shrug, which just made Milius angrier.

“But I didn’t WANT to be a distraction!”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to be faster next time-HEY!” He stumbled as Milius shoved him, and moved to shove his youngest brother back. Randolph nearly stepped forward to stop it, but Draxum stepped in before he could.

 _“Enough,”_ the Baron said sharply, making the two turtles flinch. He gave each of them a stern look. “Understand that in combat, it doesn’t matter _who_ gets to finish an enemy off, but that the enemy falls. So stop this foolishness. You are both equals, and you must all work together if you are to achieve true victory! That’s why there are four of you. Do I make myself clear?”

The two turtles nodded, replying quietly with, “Yes, my Baron.” Giving them another look, Draxum gestured to them. Milius seemed a bit confused, but Lysander seemed to get it.

“I’m sorry,” Lysander said, bowing to Milius, “for being mean, and not being a good team player.”

“...” Milius hesitated a moment before bowing back. “I’m sorry for shoving.”

Satisfied, Draxum nodded. He patted each of their heads, which seemed to lift their spirits a bit, before heading back towards his seat. “Go through your solo exercises, and then pair up for spars.”

“Yes, my Baron,” all four turtles said in perfect unison. As they began getting into position, Lysander and Milius shared another look, taking the time to smile at each other and assure that there was no grudge growing between them. Draxum was right, there was no need for them to fight each other.

Because even if worlds outside the castle existed, they still only had each other.

\-----------------

As his creations grew, Draxum was again reminded just how different the four of them were from each other.

Randolph was a fighter through and through, putting the most ferocity and passion into his spars. Physically, he was the strongest as well as the most durable, and each day he became stronger. Much like the late Lou Jitsu, Randolph tended to still see fighting as a thrill, always grinning whenever he landed a finishing blow. (He tried to ignore how similar his smile was to Lou’s). There was no doubt that a set of mystic tonfas would work very well with him.

Dante was nearly the opposite. Yes, he was a well-rounded fighter in his own right, but the times where he would attempt to follow Draxum into his lab became so frequent that eventually, Draxum stopped sending him back to the training room. Instead, he taught Destin about the power that alchemy could provide. The boy was a prodigy, already creating powerful potions and mystic seed-pods to use during battle in order to give him the edge. 

Lysander’s natural skills were as sharp as the odachi that Draxum planned on giving him. What he might have lacked in physical strength or genus intelligence, Lysander more than made up for in speed and strategy. He was able to plan at least three steps ahead in individual fights, taking note of weaknesses and strengths and incorporating them even more into battle plans that he’d share with his brothers whenever he fought beside them.

(The slider also had a bit of a silver tongue as it were, given how easily he was able to manipulate his gargoyles into giving him extra snacks.)

Finally, there was Milius. Though still the smallest, his strength was developing quite nicely, allowing him to go toe-to-toe with opponents who were twice his weight. Furthermore, his nimble frame and impeccable balance granted him amazing acrobatic abilities. He’d dodge and flip and evade until his opponent was tired, and then bring them down _hard_. No one would be able to see him coming, and their underestimation would be their downfall.

As he watched them train and grow with pride, Draxum could acknowledge that their differences were a gift, one that was far greater than simply having four identical turtle-warriors. He was already seeing how their individual strengths and skills were able to mesh with each other through Lysander’s plans, and once they reached their full potential, they would truly be unstoppable.

They were perfect, differences and all.

As for the Turtles themselves, while the act of training no longer felt as carefree and playful as it once did due to their so-called ‘destiny’ now hanging over their heads, sparring and getting stronger was still fun in a sense. Growing better as a team was just how they bonded. (It was the only way they could really bond, after all. Or do ANYTHING that wasn’t just eating or sleeping.)

Whenever any of them succeeded in something, they’d feel happy for themselves and each other. They slowly grew comfortable with the idea of being great, and with this, their confidence soared. Of course, there was still plenty of encouragement whenever there were struggles, no matter how few and far between they seemed to be, but a sense of pride was slowly growing within them as well.

On a particular day, Randolph was paired up with Dante during spars, the boy now over a foot taller than him thanks to his latest growth spurt. As always, Randolph fought without holding back, and managed to get a lucky shot or two in, striking his younger brother’s biggest weak spot.

But Dante refused to surrender, even as crimson liquid was dripping down his soft shell. While Randolph fought strong, Dante fought smart, allowing his brain, some speed and a bit of extra luck to earn him the eventual win, after three rounds and three rough landings. 

Still, the boy’s determination and pride was rewarded. Draxum granted him an extra week of recovery, and Randolph made sure to spend time with Dante as he recovered, as did Lysander and Milius.

A month later, Dante stepped into the training room with his head held high. On his back was armor that he had crafted and enchanted himself, able to not only protect but effectively defend. Using it alongside his bo and a couple of his potions, it only took him one fight to bring Randolph down. 

And just like that his biggest weakness became nothing more than a barely noticeable flaw that could easily be hidden, something his brothers and his creator congratulated him for.

“They’re getting really good!” Huginn commented in-between his munching on popcorn, eyes fixed on the Turtles as another round of spars started. Draxum usually hated when his gargoyles snacked on his shoulders, but he was in too good of a mood to care.

“They’re only, what, nine years old?” Muninn asked.

“Biologically, they’re of different ages, but yes it has been almost nine years since they were reborn through the mutation process,” Draxum answered.

The rounder gargoyle whistled. “Man… They’re only kids, and they’re already fighting like some of the best fighters in the Battle Nexus!”

“Exactly.” Draxum smiled proudly at his creations. His strong, skilled, beautiful, _perfect_ creations. Every day, his plans were becoming more and more of a reality. It would only be a matter of time before the humans fell.

\----------------------

For ten years, the Turtles were satisfied.

For ten years, all they needed was the approval of their creator, their training sessions, and each other.

But the older they became, the more their minds began to wander… Looking out the window at the Hidden City in the distance became part of their nightly routine, so much so that they began to dream about what could be out there. Occasionally, they were able to convince the gargoyles to look the other way while they snuck into the Baron’s study to use the observation orb.

They tried to focus on their training. They really, _truly_ did. But in time, they just couldn’t deny it anymore: Training just wasn’t enough. Not even finally receiving the mystic weapons could bring them back into their old mindset. Now while the world was out there, and apparently waiting for their future heroes to appear.

“Why can’t we go out to the city?” Randolph asked when Draxum caught him looking out the window.

“Because there are far too many distractions there,” Draxum explained as he led Randolph back to his nest of blankets and pillows, “If we are to defeat the humans as soon as possible, we must keep focused! Once you and your brothers bring yokai-kind into a new age of peace and prosperity, _then_ you all may do what you wish with the rest of your lives. But until then…” 

Randolph tried to argue, but Draxum was insistent that it would be worth the wait. Still, Randolph would continue to glance towards his window at the amazing Hidden City that was so close yet so far away. Eventually, he had to force himself to try and sleep so that he wouldn’t fall behind in training. Still, he wondered... When did his room start to feel so isolating?

Having fully explored all that his creator’s lab could offer, Dante’s craving for further knowledge and experimentation only grew. He knew there was more information out there (the books and scrolls and tomes in Draxum’s study weren’t written by him, after all), he just needed to learn it. He had to know - what other types of magic were out there to use… What were those- those _machines_ that the humans on the surface used?

“Maybe we could try to invent our own,” Dante suggested one day, “You know, use their own ideas against-”

“Exactly, _theirs,_ ” Draxum snapped, “We have our own power and weaponry. We don’t need to lower ourselves to using our enemies' ideas and machinery. It’s disgraceful, and it’s unnecessary. ...Now, are you ready to begin today’s lesson, Dante?”

“...” Dante held back a sigh and nodded, telling himself at the very least, he was still learning something.

Time and time again, Draxum would continue to assure him that he was teaching him all the alchemy he would ever need to know. Yes, other magic could be useful, but alchemy was all-powerful. When the Goyles let it slip about a mystic library, Dante nearly begged the Baron to bring him back new books. He was instead given scrolls containing strategies that were used in the wars centuries ago, and Dante had to force himself to be grateful. 

There weren’t any pieces of art within the castle walls to spark his imagination, but on the days and nights where he was curious enough, he’d follow servants into the kitchen. He’d watch them cook in awe and amazement, and on one occasion was even able to do a bit of it himself - that is until one of the Goyles finally found him.

“There’s no need for you to cook,” Draxum told him firmly, his hand on Milius’ head, his thumb wiping away the bit of sauce that had splattered onto his forehead during the cooking attempt, “We have servants for that.”

“But I want to-!” Milius tried to say, but he was quickly silenced.

“It’s a waste of your skills, and a waste of your time,” the Baron repeated, “I understand you’re curious, but there is no need. Now, go back to your training - and this is the last that I want to hear about it.” Milius sniffled a bit, but bowed in submission. At the very least, training still allowed him a bit of creativity through his flips and his chains and fire. But he didn’t want to use his skills to just fight and to defeat others. He wanted to _make._

Each time one of these instances happened with any of his creations, Draxum knew it was a problem. They were already becoming distracted, and he was doing everything he could to pull them back. He would repeatedly remind them of their destiny, remind them what they were fighting for - what they were made for. They were still his turtle warriors, and he was sure that they would grow out of their newest interests eventually.

And as for Lysander, he didn’t ask for a single thing from the Baron... 

He simply kept a closer eye on the castle’s staff rotation, and started thinking about how to get himself and his brothers across Devil’s Backbone in one piece.

\-------------------

The Hidden City ended up being just as amazing as they thought it would be.

The four brothers stayed near each other as they walked, covering each other’s shells and keeping an eye on each other, just as they were taught. Still, as cautious as they were, they were still in awe at all the buildings and lights and new things and amazing sights and people! So, _so_ many people!

“Why did the Baron want to keep us from here?” Lysander asked, “This place is awesome!”

“Yeah!” Milius agreed, his attention focused on a small stall that sold colorful scarves and other assorted fabrics, “And so pretty too.”

“You heard him,” Randolph reminded, “He wants to keep us from getting distracted and forgetting about our destiny…” Now that they were actually there, Randolph silently admitted that he couldn’t really blame his creator for thinking that. Actually seeing the city for himself made it hard for him to imagine leaving it again.

“But who knows how long that will take,” Dante huffed, “We haven’t even fought any actual opponents that weren’t also created by Draxum, let alone an actual human.” And what was the point of training anyway if they were already supposedly perfect?

“Which is why we HAD to take this chance,” Lysander said, “Before we have to wait another eleven years. So come on, let’s hurry and see as much as we can!” With that, he raced ahead. 

Milius giggled, matching his stride easily, with Dante close behind and Randolph lightly scolding them all, if only because he knew that getting lost and getting back to the castle late would earn them a whole lot more scolding from their creator.

Still, even he couldn’t help but have fun as they traveled further and further into the mystic metropolis, being just as entranced and amazed by the sights as his brothers were. Each new street and alleyway held new experiences, each new sight and sound and smell made for a new memory. All they were doing was walking around, yet it felt like an adventure!

Most of all, it felt like they _finally_ knew what they were missing out on.

“Whoaaaaaa, look at that!” Milius grabbed two of his brothers’ hands (knowing that the one he didn’t grab would still follow) and pulled them into an alleyway. The walls had been absolutely covered in color and shapes, with stylized words surrounding even more abstract pictures.

“...Uhh, what is it?” Dante asked, tilting his head as he tried to figure out what the graffiti was actually trying to say, given how hard it was to read the exaggerated yokai characters.

“Dunno, but I LOVE it!” Milius grinned.

Randolph chuckled, patting his youngest brother’s shell. “It is pretty neat, yeah. I wonder if any other places here have stuff like this? Maybe we-”

“Hey.”

The four turtles stopped, and turned towards the sudden voice. Tall and lean figures were stepping out of a backdoor that had been placed towards the end of the alleyway. The figures were snake and lizard-like, each of them wearing a pure-white gi, almost like a uniform of some sort.

“Just what do you kids think you’re doing here?” one of them asked.

“Yeah,” another said, “Most kids - or, the ones who know better, at least - know to stay clear of Boss Bruce’s territory.”

“Hmph, yeah,” another one hissed, “Masters of Barbarism members _only._ ”

“Who’s-?” Dante began to ask, but Lysander cut him off, seeing that these guys were serious.

“H-Hey, we were just visiting,” he told them. After a moment, he bowed slightly and added, “We’re Baron Draxum’s warriors, and we’re sorry for trespassing.” Lysander smiled to himself, figuring that tidbit alongside an apology would be more than enough to solve the issue (and maybe even earn them permission to visit the wall art again).

The gang members stared at them, then looked at each other. The lizard gave a bit of a snicker. “Baron Draxum? You mean the angry sheep guy that lived on the other side of town? I thought he died after that fire he had a few years ago?”

Lysander’s smile fell. _What?_

“Heh, you kids seem pretty young to be ‘warriors’ too,” the snake-man added, chuckling as if the idea itself was just ridiculous, “But you know, the Masters could always use more errand boys. More lookouts too.” His fellow gang members nodded in agreement. “Maybe Boss Bruce WOULD want to see you four, after all.”

“But, no, we- we’re the heroes of Yokai-kind!” Lysander argued.

The gang laughed again. “Sure, kid. Now come on, ‘hero’.” They stepped forward, and Randolph pulled each of his brothers a step back. The lizard-man scowled slightly at that before looking down. “Or you know, you COULD hand over those mystic-looking weapons of yours, that works too.” How did a bunch of kids get mystic weapons anyway?

Randolph gasped slightly at that. “What? No! These are ours!”

“Maybe, but you’d be smart to hand them over to _us_ ,” one of the snake-men said, letting out another hiss as he stepped forward, “So why don’t you just be a good little warrior and give those weapons to people who can actually use them?”

 _Use them…_ Randolph and Lysander looked at each other, and then at their other two brothers. They were all thinking the same thing. And, if the scowls on the gang members’ faces were any indication, they didn’t really have a choice.

Slowly, each of them got out their weapons. Tonfas, odachi, halberd, kusari-fundo. Breathing in, the Turtles naturally shifted into their usual attack position. Like soldiers falling into line, like dancers falling into a routine that had been drilled into them for years.

“...Alright, kids,” The lizard growled, “Don’t say we didn’t try to take it easy on you…” With a chorus of spitting hisses, the Masters of Barbarism attacked- 

And the Turtles reacted.

Each move was precise, and executed perfectly. For the four of them, fighting was so natural that they hardly had to even think about it. Every move the Masters had in their arsenal was easily countered, and every strategy the Turtles already had in their minds were executed perfectly, as if they were in yet another training session. Add in their mystic abilities, and it was obvious that the gang had never stood a chance.

When it was over, the Turtles were barely out of breath, but were no less stunned. Their opponents were lying still on the concrete, and showed no signs of getting up. It was over. Their first real battle was over.

“...Heh.” That was the first noise that Lysander made. He made it again before looking at his brothers, who were already starting to smile. Before long, they started to cheer and celebrate, a feeling of relief and joy that stuck around as they were leaving and even as they were heading back to their castle.

Draxum had been right. They were the perfect warriors. They won their first fight easily, and they now knew just how strong and amazing they truly were. They had no reason to be afraid anymore, and no reason to be afraid of _anyone_ \- humans or yokai.

\------------------

_How did he not notice this earlier?_

That was the question Draxum asked himself as he paced the halls of his castle. He should have at least suspected it, but the Turtles had covered nearly all of their tracks. They were always back in their rooms by morning, they never showed fatigue during training, and they seemed just as focused as ever.

But their shenanigans were starting to earn them a reputation, it would seem. There were whispers of four reptile children who would occasionally snatch food or toys from unsuspecting shops, and who could fight off gang members who were twice their age and twice their size. Their mystic weapons - items that no ordinary yokai could possess - made them even more infamous… and even more feared.

Very few officers from the HCPD had managed to chase them down since their debut, and actually capturing them seemed to be an impossibility. Word on the street was that the Council of Heads was _furious,_ and though these child-warriors weren’t causing too much damage yet, the Heads still wanted them stopped.

Draxum gritted his teeth, his fists clenched so tightly that it was a wonder his claws hadn’t gone through his gloves. Those little brats! He had done everything for them, and this was how they repaid him - by putting their entire mission in jeopardy?! If they were to be captured by the Council, or even have their weapons taken away to have their mystic properties expelled, then-!

The alchemist stopped, forcing himself to take a deep breath in, and then back out.

No… It wasn’t over yet. He would make sure of that.

When he first realized what had happened, Draxum had thought about sending Garm and Fenki after them, but knew that would be pointless. If his creations could fight off Hidden City Police, then they could certainly fight off a couple of hired guards and their dogs. No, instead Draxum would wait until they returned home - then he would put a stop to this rebellion once and for all.

Still- “I don’t understand… I just don’t understand,” he muttered. The Turtles knew of their destiny, knew how important it was for them to become Yokai-kind’s greatest warriors, so why-? 

A familiar face flashed in his mind. The glint from a pair of gold sunglasses. A confident smile that shone as bright as the sun as he stood on the backs of defeated yokai. 

“...Perhaps I should have used my own DNA over a human’s.” Yes, that had to be it.

In everything else, from strength to skill to durability, they were still perfect specimens. But they were also part-human, and humans were selfish. Humans were nothing but a bunch of self-serving, despicable _traitors._ But Draxum would be damned if he let Lo- if he let the Turtles’ human-side drive them away from what they were always meant to do.

He would correct this, no matter what he had to do, even if a part of him regretted it in the moment. They were still his creations. They were still perfect, he refused to even entertain the idea of that not being true… but even perfection occasionally needed some guidance in order to stay on the path toward its glorious potential. 

He had never needed to punish them before, and taking proper action would hurt, in more ways than one. But it was for the greater good.

“Um, Baron Draxum?” Draxum turned, and saw his gargoyles fluttering a few feet behind him. “They’re uh- they’re on their way back,” Muninn said, with Huginn wincing slightly as his partner said these words.

“...” Draxum took another deep breath to steady himself before going upstairs to confront his misbehaving creations, his vines at the ready.

It was for the greater good… and he was sure that they would thank him for this one day.

\-----------------

The night had started off so well… They had left at their usual time, and had made it all the way to the Minotaur’s Maze. Even if they weren’t in the know about the pizzeria on the surface that was mystically connected to the maze, its Minotaur still allowed them to try it.

“And this pizza stuff is good, right?” Milius had asked before they entered.

The Minotaur chuckled. “Trust me, kid. You’ll love it.”

The obstacles within the maze were a breeze, even without the use of their mystic powers, with Randolph taking most of them out by himself, and though it took a couple tries, Dante’s intelligence combined with Lysander’s and Milius’ intuition allowed them to find the center of the maze in record time! 

The Minotaur had been impressed with the young warriors. She even gave them an extra pizza, and best of all, her claim of “best pizza you’ve ever had” wasn’t a lie. Afterwards, they had taken their delicious prize to the forests outside of Witch Town, enjoying the cool glow of the giant trees and mushrooms.

It had been a good night… But it couldn’t last. 

Deep down, the boys had known that it would be only a matter of time before Draxum caught them, no matter how careful they were… They just hadn’t expected the aftermath to hurt this much.

Randolph winced a bit as he tried to get comfortable, wanting nothing more than to sleep all of his pain and sadness off and pretend that this entire night was just a dream that took a bad turn. 

But between the aches he now had on his arms and shell, ones that were sure to bruise as they stuck around, and the berating they all had gotten earlier still ringing in his ears… Randolph honestly wasn’t sure how possible it would be for him to get some sleep that night.

Milius was still curled up beside him, still occasionally sniffling and refusing to give his oldest brother any additional space. Then again, Randolph couldn’t really blame him - or any of his brothers - for not wanting to be alone that night. 

Dante had taken up another corner of Randolph’s blanket-nest, hugging himself. Randolph hadn’t realized how much smaller Dante had looked without his armor… As for Lysander, he was sniffling as well, but his glare never faltered. Occasionally, he’d look over at the view outside Randolph’s window, and almost immediately, he felt a whole new wave of hurt and intense emotions crash through his chest.

“...Why did he get so mad?” Milius finally said, his voice quiet and small, “We- we may have lied but… we weren’t doing anything wrong.” He squeezed Randolph’s arm. “We were just having fun…”

“But we’re not supposed to have fun,” Dante bitterly shot back, “We’re warriors…”

“He just… wants us to keep reaching our potential,” Randolph argued weakly, “But, Draxum still… He still cares about us-”

“Yeah. As his _soldiers_ ,” Lysander spoke up, his fists clenched tightly, “His obedient creations that are supposed to save the world from a threat that hasn’t even shown their faces down here ONCE and isn’t even planning another attack!”

“Lysander…” Randolph wanted to say more but… he just couldn’t. Not when he knew his brother wasn’t wrong. They all knew it, because it was what they had been hearing all their lives. It was their destiny to defeat the humans and be the saviors of yokai-kind. Their purpose, their reason for even existing. 

And if they couldn’t fulfill their destiny… Would Draxum even want them around? At the very least, he had no problems using his vines on them - something he hadn’t even done during their training - just to get them back in line. But hearing his usual words of praise and admiration be replaced with scorn and disapproval and _anger_ \- that was almost worse.

In that case, maybe that really was all they were… Just soldiers that needed to be trained and used to help people that they weren’t even allowed to be friends with, and who didn’t even know or care about them. That was their reason for being… but they didn’t want it to be.

“I thought we were perfect,” Milius mumbled, “So… how could we be wrong for doing what we want?”

“No. No, it’s _not_ wrong,” Lysander insisted, “It can’t be… We’re still perfect. We- we’ve won every fight we’ve had! We’ve defeated snakes and lizards and trolls and manticores and plenty of other warriors too! They couldn’t even scratch us!”

“Hmph, he has a point,” Dante nodded, taking a moment to wipe his eyes, “Would’ve been nice if Draxum acknowledged those successes too, considering he wants us to be ‘undefeatable warriors’ and all…”

“But I don’t WANT to be a warrior anymore!” Milius finally cried out, sitting up and looking about as upset and angry as the twins now, “At least, not all the time… And- And why should we have to listen to Draxum anyway if we’re the ones who are supposed to be strong and perfect and not him?”

Randolph wanted to argue, wanted to keep pretending that his creator had a good reason for treating them all like this, a reason that actually made sense and didn’t just _hurt_ but- he just couldn’t do it anymore.

Without thinking, he replied to his youngest brother’s query with, “In that case, maybe _he_ should be the one we’re fighting, not the humans.”

They all paused, the words hanging heavily in the air. It had been said, and now it couldn’t be unsaid or forgotten. They thought a little harder, scooted in a little closer. They’d look over their shoulders and speak in whispers, just in case certain gargoyles or servants were nearby, yet the tones they spoke with were far from meek. 

They knew it’d take time, but as their confidence in themselves began to rise again, a plan slowly began to form…

\---------------

For a time, everything seemed normal.

The next day, there was no complaining or even reluctance. The Turtles emerged from the rooms, bowed to their creator, and began their warm-ups. 

Since there were no further signs of rebellion or disobedience, Draxum was pleasant to them as well, his voice remaining calm as he gave them guidance and the occasional bit of praise. The day went on as it should have - warm-ups, breakfast, individual training, lunch, sparring, supper, and a brief study period (or in Dante’s case, alchemy practice) before bed. Everything went perfectly.

...Almost too perfectly, in fact. Given how upset the boys were the night before, Draxum had expected at least a little pushback, and had even prepared himself to deal with it. But his creations were nothing but respectful, focused and dutiful. 

It was strange, but Draxum wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip by - not after all that had happened in the past month. So, he continued training his warriors, who never once faltered or argued. They didn’t even ask him about possibly taking time for one of their fleeting interests or returning to the Hidden City, nor did they sneak out. 

(At least, Draxum never caught them sneaking out. There was one instance, several weeks later, where the Librarian from the Mystic Library stopped by and claimed that she had tracked a missing and most likely stolen scroll to his castle. Draxum never did find any evidence of the scroll being there, and sent her away after several minutes of arguing. Still, the incident stayed stuck in the back of his mind… and in hindsight, perhaps he should have looked into it more.)

As the weeks and months continued, the Turtles kept progressing and improving, becoming stronger each day. It was a welcomed sight for the Baron. With how hard they were working, they were becoming masters of their skill set in record time, and he had to resort to nitpicks just to find something to constructively criticize.

“Straighten your leg a bit more, Randolph.”

“Yes, my Baron.”

“Milius, your aim is excellent but it can always be better.”

“Yes, my Baron.”

“Be mindful of how many potions and pods you use while in battle, Dante.”

“Yes, my Baron.”

“Lysander, make sure to-” Draxum stopped, doing a double take. For a split second, it looked like the slider’s eyes were red instead of white. When he turned fully towards him, Lysander’s eyes were white again, completely normal.

“Yes, my Baron?” Lysander asked, raising his third eyelid to reveal his pupils.

“...Remember to be accurate and efficient with your portals,” Draxum replied after a moment.

Lysander gave him a small, still respectful smile as he bowed to his creator. “Yes, my Baron.”

“Good… Move onto pairs, and after that we’ll do a team exercise. Understood?” The Turtles replied in unison before pairing up, making sure to pick different sparring partners than the day before, as was expected of them.

As Lysander stretched, a familiar voice entered his head. _“You know, for a warring warrior scientist, he isn’t very observant. But I guess that’s a lucky break for us, since SOMEONE nearly got caught.”_

Lysander held back a chuckle as he mentally answered back, **_“I just barely got caught, and we all agreed that we had to practice the Mind Meld technique as often as possible anyway. Anyway, did you get a good look at his vines yet?”_ **

Dante positioned his halberd, its mystic energy glowing a bright purple as he flung it out toward his twin, the pointy end of it stretching like a snake. Lysander dodged before blocking using his odachi, and was prepared to jump in order to avoid getting wrapped up in the halberd.

 _“Yes, but give me two more weeks to fully study them,”_ Dante told him, _“I already know their biggest weak spots, but I want to cover every angle, if only because doing anything else would be too boring.”_

 **_“Heh, guess there’s only so many times a guy can mix the same potions and practice the same enchantments, huh?”_ ** Lysander commented as he swung his sword at Dante, who turned and allowed his armor to summon sharp spikes as a block - which would have probably made Lysander stumble back, at least, if not for the mental warning that it was going to happen.

From the sidelines, it looked like a normal fight. No hesitation, no holding back, 100% focused. And yet… “I wonder…” Draxum mumbled, his own eyes narrowing slightly. Something felt off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it - not when his creations seemed to be just as obedient and perfect as ever.

“Heh, wonder what? How long it’s gonna take these kids to totally destroy the humans?” Huginn joked, always one to take an opportunity to get on his boss’ good side. Muninn chuckled, adding a “Nice!”, but Draxum stayed silent. 

“Perhaps, I should do some further testing on them, just to be safe…” He was nearly done recreating his ooze anyway, he just had to get his hands on some empyrean. 

It had been hard enough getting in the first time, with him having to be sneaky about it to avoid suspicions. He was thankful that the concerns and anger drummed up by his creations had long since passed in their absence, but Draxum knew he still had to be careful. But, before he created any more mutants, Draxum figured it would be good for him to explore any ‘extra abilities’ that the ooze would possibly grant.

A battle cry and a wave of heat brought his attention back to the spars in front of him. Milius had summoned another fire tornado, a move that Draxum couldn’t deny was immensely powerful - and though Randolph was able to block it with his own mystic weapon’s aura, the sheepman was certain that no one else would even come close to withstanding an attack like that. Certainly no humans would be able to.

Reminded of his original goals, Draxum managed a small smile. Baron Draxum may have tried to plot and plan ahead to prevent any major disasters, but he was no worrier. All of his concerns, they were completely unfounded, he was sure of it. He was probably just being impatient, that was all.

His plan _was_ becoming a reality, and whether he would need to create and train more mutants first or simply send his loyal creators up to the surface on their own, he would just have to wait a little bit longer. Just a bit longer, and then everything would be just as it was meant to be...

\----------------------- 

They could have chosen any day to put their plan into motion, really. But if there was one thing they inherited from their creator, it was a slight sense of drama. With that in mind, the 13th anniversary of their creation seemed like the perfect occasion.

Before heading to the lab, however, the four did make some time for two things. Firstly, they put on the scarves they had stolen during one of their first trips to the Hidden City. It had been Milius’ idea, naturally, but the others had found them appealing too. Of course, after being hidden for nearly two years, the fabric wasn’t as soft as it used to be. But the colors they had chosen - red, blue, orange and purple - were just as bright as ever.

Secondly, they snuck into the kitchen, easily grabbing a few of the plain sugar cookies that had been reserved for the occasional dessert. Over time, they had lost their slight sweetness and became just another element of their meal that the Turtles neither liked nor disliked - but they still knew two people who would love them.

As was expected, the gargoyles were spending their break inside the Baron’s study, resting comfortably in their dog bed. Lysander smiled slightly as he approached them. Even if they were their boss’ biggest cheerleaders and accomplices, they had also been their nannies. As such, he and his brothers could never hate them. 

(That and their love of snacks and willingness to accept bribes usually kept them from being snitches, so long as what the Turtles wanted to sneak off and do wasn’t too extreme. This wasn’t those times, but Lysander could still appreciate them regardless.)

Finally noticing Lysander’s presence, Huginn groaned and stretched. “Oh, hey there, kid. Nice scarf, though I’m not sure the Baron will approve, given the scarfs aren’t exactly a normal sight on the battlefield.”

“I know,” Lysander said simply before holding up the bag of sweets. 

Muninn instantly perked up at that. “Oooh, are those for us?”

“Yep,” the slider nodded, dropping the cookies in their bed, “And if I were you guys, I’d eat them far away from here.”

“Uhh, why would we do that?” Huginn asked, raising an eyebrow as his partner dug into the bag.

“Yeah,” Muninn agreed, “Why take our snack to go when we can just stay in bed and-?”

“No, really,” Lysander said suddenly, his face serious, “You guys should take your snack and go. As far as you can go, in fact. Now.”

“...” The Goyles shared a look, and then glanced back up at the turtle. His expression didn’t change. “...Uh, yeah, okay. We’ll just… yeah.”

Lysander watched them leave, even opening the window for them, before heading back into the hall and rejoining his brothers. “So, are we ready?” he asked them.

The other three turtles shared a smile, with Randolph giving him a nod, answering with “More than ready.”

Lysander nodded back, and with one simple slice, they were falling through the floor - through the portal, and landing right on top of the highest, darkest point in their creator’s lab. 

Of course, Draxum was none the wiser, having already checked in on the Turtles’ training that day, and was willing to leave them to direct their own sparring sessions as he finally finished recreating his experiment.

He still wasn’t sure whether to keep waiting in order to create a mutant army, or to believe in his creations and allow them to do what they were always meant to do. They had gotten so strong - so unbelievably strong. It really was something that gave him great pride, but they were also still young, still in their second stage of development. Were they strong enough, or were they still too far from their peak?

Annoyed by all the questions he still had regarding them, Draxum decided to ignore them for now and focus on his success in the present. It didn’t matter how much he would actually end up using the ooze, just knowing that he had recreated it in spite of Jitsu’s efforts to destroy it would be enough.

With a smile, he picked up the small vial of empyrean - a small amount was all he would ever need - walked over to his machine, and moved to pour it into the-

Draxum stopped as a shiver ran down his spine. Suddenly, he was very aware that he wasn’t alone. Turning, he saw his creations staring back at him, their eyes white while their faces were calm. They were even smiling.

“... Shouldn’t you all be training?” he asked them, managing to remain stern, “What are you all doing down here anyway?”

“Oh, nothing,” Randolph shrugged, “We were just about to head out and figured we’d let you know so you don’t try to send anyone after us later. No one wants to deal with that, trust us.”

Head out? Draxum scowled. “You four are not going anywhere!”

Dante rolled his eyes, leaning a bit on his halberd. “Yeahhhh, we figured you would say that too.”

“Although you really should reconsider,” Milius added, “You really, _really_ should.” He knew it would never happen, but even so - he was their creator. He deserved at least one chance to walk away.

Unfortunately, Draxum was too prideful - too blind for that. “I don’t know what this is, but if this is some sort of rebellion, it stops now,” he told them, clenching his fists, “You four are to go back upstairs and-!”

Lysander suddenly laughed, nearly making the sheepman flinch. “Sorry, ‘my Baron’,” he said condescending, “But we’re not going to listen to you anymore. And if you’re not going to listen to _us_ , then - well. I guess the last one standing wins. So what do you say, ‘sir’?” He whipped out his odachi. “Wanna spar for old time’s sake? Maybe show us some _true_ strength, hm?”

Draxum didn’t even answer, his expression a mix of dumbfounded and enraged. Where did they get such nerve? Where did this all even come from?! This had to be a trick, or a mistake. They were supposed to be HIS warriors! They were supposed to obey, not challenge his authority!

“... _Fine_ ,” he finally snapped, getting into a defensive position. The Turtles did the same, showing no fear or regret, which just made Draxum angrier. “I don’t know what has gotten into all of you, but if I must defeat you in order to put an end to it, then so be it.” 

Surprisingly, a small part of him was reluctant to do so. If he was forced to severely injure or even kill his creations in order to remind them who they were meant to serve, then all of those years he spent molding them towards true perfection might have just been a complete waste. But if the expressions on the Turtles’ faces were any indication, Draxum didn’t have a choice. 

So, he summoned an array of thick purple vines - and the Turtles’ eyes flashed bright red.

In some ways, the fight felt like it lasted for ages. And other ways, it seemed like it was over almost in an instant.

From the start, Draxum very quickly learned that despite any feelings or lingering hopes he might have had for his creations and how they could help Yokai-kind, his turtles weren’t holding anything back, so he couldn’t either. He fought with all he had - every ability, every strategy, every move. He even summoned a few golems in the hopes that they’d at the very least buy him some time, even if he knew they’d get cut down in minutes, if not seconds.

But it still wasn’t enough. 

Draxum was outmatched, outgunned, and simply put, outnumbered. Really, it was almost funny how his own insistence that they all work as a team and use their abilities in-sync with each other had come back to haunt him.

Being on the receiving end of one of his oldest’s aura punches was, in a word, absolutely terrifying. Furthermore, each time he tried to use his vines to block or entrap Randolph, his vines would then be compromised by a portal opening or a burst of orange fire or a sudden explosion of mystic frost or paralyzing electricity. With how well prepared they were, there was no denying that their attack was one that had been planned well in advance.

Still, Draxum refused to believe that the fight was over before it had really begun. Already knowing that their synergy and strength in numbers was their greatest asset, he would try to separate them - use surprise attacks in an attempt to blind or stun one or all of them, and then target them individually in the hopes of taking them out one by one.

But each time Draxum attempted this, his creations still seemed to be one step ahead. Their eyes would glow red once more, and the one he tried to attack would counter it perfectly while the others would go on the offensive. Of course he would keep trying and trying - but by the third attempt, even he knew that this was more out of stubbornness than actual hope that it would work.

Once the fatigue started settling in, his vines more of an anchor than a weapon and his breath ragged, that was when the Turtles really started laying into him. He would try to block a punch or a kick, and end up getting slashed or shocked in the back. He’d get tossed around from one brother to another with each hit landed. He ended up feeling the true power of one of Milius’ fire tornadoes…

Finally - _finally_ \- the Turtles stopped… because they knew that all they had to do now was simply take a step back and wait.

Unable to do anything else, Draxum’s legs gave in and he collapsed to the hard ground. “Why…?” he shakily asked, gritting his teeth. As he looked up at them, his expression was still a mix of pain and anger, devastation and fury. “Y-You-! You were all supposed to be the saviors of Y-Yokai-kind! You were supposed to- to FIGHT for me! For US! T-To bring our people to the surface! It was your _DESTINY!_ ”

“No, it wasn’t,” Lysander replied. He wasn’t smug, and neither were his brothers - they all knew that after they had reached a certain point in their training and planning, Draxum just wasn’t a true match for them. Draxum now knew that too. No reason to drag it out with gloating, not when that wasn’t what they were truly after. 

Still, there was one thing Lysander wanted Draxum to know: “We’re done listening to you. We’re creating our _own_ destiny. But hey, we learned that from you so, thanks for that, Baron.”

Draxum’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to respond, but the Turtles didn’t give him a chance. Eyes turning red, Lysander turned to Milius, who nodded after a moment. Turning, he whipped his kusari-fundo at the center of his machine.

“N-No-” Draxum reached out a shaky, burned hand. “Don’t-!”

There was a brilliant explosion, spreading green and blue flames all over his lab. For the second time in thirteen years, Draxum watched helplessly as his work was completely destroyed. 

The boys smiled at it all, and to finish it all off, Randolph launched two giant-aura fists into the ceiling, creating a giant hole that would both act as their exit and seal the old castle’s fate. They wouldn’t kill Draxum directly, but they certainly wouldn’t help him either. If he wanted to live past this day, Draxum could save himself - take charge of his own destiny like they had. And if he couldn’t, well… that was just how the lab crumbled.

Without another glance, the Turtles easily leapt up through the rubble and the flames, hopping and climbing until they made it to the top, never to be seen by their creator again.

Still panting, now coughing because of the smoke, Draxum set his head down. Broken, battered, beaten… beyond his aches and his burns and the painful sensation that came with realization, a single question kept wracking his mind: How could this had happened… and why hadn’t he seen it coming?

He hadn’t seen it coming, too trusting in his own vision and too hopeful that his goals would work out one way or another… but someone else _had_ seen it coming, and Draxum had completely dismissed him.

Draxum didn’t heed the warnings, ignored the wishes of his creations, and focused on his one true purpose: to create the strongest and greatest warriors ever.

And he had succeeded. The Turtles were indeed strong and great, and he wasn’t sure if anyone - yokai or human - would ever be able to defeat them.

Choking back a sob, Draxum’s thoughts shifted as the flames came closer and the walls of his home continued to fall. He no longer wondered how he had failed. He knew exactly how he failed, and now the only question left for him to ask was: 

_“...What have I done…?”_

Already far from the crumbling structure, the Turtles were continuing to run and laugh and cheer, feeling as though they were going fast enough to rise into the sky like dragons. 

They were free. They had destroyed their cage and now had the strength and power to do whatever they wanted - to know that no one would ever try to force them into a so-called ‘destiny’ ever again! It was an amazing feeling, and they never wanted to let it go.

\--------------

Of course, once their feelings came back down to Earth, reality came with it. They had destroyed their home, and as amazing as the Hidden City streets were, they weren’t about to live on them. After all they had gone through and fought for, they deserved MUCH more - and thankfully, they knew the perfect place.

They had heard of the Battle Nexus and the Jorogumo who ran it during one of their earlier trips to the Hidden City. In many ways, Big Mama was similar to their creator. She molded and used fighters for their own means, and she ultimately believed in herself and her own goals more so than anyone else’s. 

But in other ways, she was different. She was sneakier and more influential, known for her deals and tricks and abundance of resources that made her much more socially powerful than the Baron could ever hope to be. If not for Draxum stopping their trips, perhaps she would have even tried to manipulate them into striking a deal, promising a life of luxury for a job well done in the ring.

But while the Turtles were still young, they weren’t stupid. They wouldn’t sign over their freedom to Big Mama after just earning it themselves… but that didn’t mean her status and treasures weren’t still appealing...

With the HCPD and the Council likely still wanting them captured, sure to increase their efforts once they were reminded of the Turtles' existence. The four of them would need both a formidable home and a significant enough spectacle to show them and the rest of the city just how strong they were.

It was just good strategy, after all - especially when Big Mama’s bellhops had more bark than bite.

 **_“You know- you’d think a lady with bodyguards this weak would’ve been overthrown ages ago,”_ ** R (they no longer wanted their baron-given names, and had promised themselves that they would find new names later) thought as he punched another several bellhops away, nearly knocking out another wall.

From below, he could hear the creatures and prisoners they had freed from the Nexus cells still trashing the arena and wrecking anyone who tried to stop them. But even with all the bellhops they had taken out with that little stunt, more just kept on coming. They weren’t much of a threat, more annoying than anything else, but R respected them enough to actually fight them instead of going for kill-shot after kill-shot.

L, however, clearly didn’t feel the same. _“Well,”_ he thought back, smirking as he slashed through his own opponents, taking each one out with a single slice, _“Maybe we’re just the only ones smart enough to actually think of trying it! Also-”_

L stabbed through one last bellhop, tossing him over his shoulder. _“I’m in the lead by at least three.”_

R paused, looking down the hall at all the bodies. **_“Huh… Yeah, I guess you are. But-”_ ** There was an explosion above them, strong enough to shake the building and make the lights flicker. **_“Pretty sure D and M are still in the lead.”_ **

_“Ugh, whatever.”_ L raced ahead towards the next staircase, if only because he didn’t want his purple and orange brothers to get to Big Mama before he could. He had a plan in mind that, if they managed to execute it before M got bored and started lighting things on fire, could be pretty fun and cool to see in motion. 

They may have had some friendly sibling-competition going, but it was all shallow: They were all still equal where it counted, and by the end of that night, they would all be receiving the grand prize...

Hours later, after being thoroughly defeated and tossed out, Big Mama scurried off into the darkest shadows she could find. She may have lost everything, but she still wanted to live - and certainly didn’t want to give any of her recently-freed enemies a chance to finish her off while she was still weak.

The city was in a panic at the news, unsure what would happen now that one of their biggest influencers in terms of power and wealth was now gone, replaced with four reptile warrior-teens who could rip through an army like paper... Honestly, Big Mama wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or terrified.

Eventually though, she was able to find somewhere dark, quiet and safe… and it was only after the ringing had left her ears and she was able to take a moment to focus on something other than her pain and confusion did she realize just how similar the fighting styles of those turtles had been to the fighting style of her long-lost lover…

\-------------

Things seemed to settle somewhat after they took over the Nexus. There was plenty to explore and do within the Nexus, and with no restrictions and no Baron forcing them to stick to a rigid schedule, the Turtles happily did whatever they wanted. Whether it was out of curiosity, boredom or just for fun, there was no limit - and any reason was a good reason.

That was the excuse D used at least when he wanted to see what would happen if he burned a decent chunk of Big Mama’s money, or when he wanted to mess around with her mystic treasures and artifacts. He practically made a second room for himself in her safe - but hey, his brothers weren’t about to tell him he couldn’t. So, D experimented to his heart’s content, only stopping when he felt like it (or when he wanted to take a trip to the Mystic Library).

M was finally able to explore his passions as well, first by holding himself in the kitchen long enough to use nearly every ingredient Big Mama’s former chefs had had in their pantry at least once, and then by using the rest of the Nexus as his canvas. His homemade paint bombs made spreading color throughout their new home and experimenting with art all the more effective (and fun!) and even during the times where he did pick up an actual brush or try a different type of art, there were no limitations.

L and R kept themselves busy too, either by using the various facilities within the Nexus that interested them or returning to their habit of exploring the wonders of the Hidden City. With no one being daring enough to try and attack them, the whole city was practically their kingdom. Not that they really thought of themselves as kings, they were still warriors that simply fought for themselves and their own lives, but they certainly couldn’t deny that having total freedom was pretty sweet.

But as much time as they all spent apart, they’d also spend plenty of time together. As if they had been turned back into children, they’d play games and spar and wrestle and chase each other, still finding a thrill in fighting one another - still seeing it as a way to bond. When it was time to rest, they’d also stay near each other, looking out over their new world and knowing that it was theirs and theirs alone. 

Out of all the other yokai out there, it was the four of them who were perfect. They were the strongest and the greatest, just as their creator claimed they would be - and now through their own efforts, they were the happiest.

\------------

“...Hey.”

R stopped mid-smash. He and the twins had been convinced by M to help him destroy the statues around the Nexus in the hopes of using them for materials for his own statues. But apparently, one of the statues caught M’s eye.

“What’s up?” R asked, walking over to his youngest brother.

“Nothing… I’m just pretty sure I found a familiar face,” M answered as he casually gestured to the statue standing in front of them. R turned to look, and saw the face that he and his brothers had only seen in the ripples of Draxum’s observation orb.

“...Wait, is that-? ...Huh,” he heard L say behind him.

“...Makes sense,” D nodded, “Draxum did say that he was the greatest warrior before us. Of course he’d have a statue here.”

The confident, frozen face of Lou Jitsu grinned back at them, his stone sunglasses hiding his eyes. They hadn’t been told much about him, only that he was strong and skilled… and a traitor. Still, they had to wonder… What would it have been like, having Lou Jitsu as their guardian and teacher, or possibly even a father? 

Would he have been kind and caring, seeing them as people instead of just soldiers, or would he have been just as selfish and cruel as Draxum had claimed that all humans were? Ultimately, they would never know, and M wasn’t about to drive himself crazy with questions that could never be truly answered.

So, while it was saved for last, Lou Jitsu’s statue was soon destroyed too. They didn’t need a father anyway, certainly not one made out of stone. All that was left of him now the DNA that was currently coursing through their bloodstream, and that strength and skill was something they had proudly made their own.

\-------------

It had seemed impossible, but after weeks and months of trying to catch up on all they had missed in the underground, the four warriors had started to feel as though they were reaching their limit of what they could do in the Hidden City - which had begun to lose its excitement, even with all the chaos and ‘fun’ they had tried to drum up around it.

And eventually, their curiosity turned their heads upwards towards the second half of the Nexus - the hidden half of their new home that had still been left a mystery, though not for much longer. 

Credit where it was due, Draxum had been right when he had said that humans weren’t the only ones who deserved to live on the surface. And, after a quick elevator ride up through the two realms and up to the top floor, the boys quickly confirmed that the surface was just as amazing as their creator had claimed it was.

They hadn’t bothered with disguises or hiding themselves, why would they? All it took was a look or a snarl to send humans running, it was almost funny in a way. How in the world had Draxum been so threatened by them?

A brief bit of research led them to a ‘theme park’ that was based off of some sort of talking bear - a park that they were quickly able to evacuate with ease. They didn’t attack any humans, if only because it was unnecessary. All they needed was a couple explosions and some shallow threatening to send the humans running off in a panic.

Of course, the Turtles understood that not all humans would be like that, but for the ones dumb enough to actually try attacking back, they had plans in place - their weapons still attached to their shells and ready to be used at a moment’s notice. But until then, they were ready to get back to having fun.

“What should we do first?” R asked as they all looked around at the rides and attractions, once again feeling like they were in a whole new world. In some sense, it was also bittersweet, knowing that they could have had these experiences from the beginning had it not been for their creator’s insistence… But at the very least, they could experience it now, and that was still something.

“Heh, better question is, what shouldn’t we do,” M grinned as he raced from booth to booth, eyes wide and sparkling while his head filled with inspiration for new metal sculptures - not to mention all the human food he could try and recreate. “I mean, just LOOK at all this stuff! We could spend _ages_ in here! It’s amazing!”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind taking apart one of those metal creatures,” D smirked, gesturing over to an Albearto animatronic that had been pushed over during the panic. It wasn’t much, but it was a start - and if it would help him become a master of ALL surface machinery and technology, then so be it.

But above all else, they really did just want to enjoy themselves while they could, before the more forceful (and more stupid) humans started bothering them - and L quickly found the best way to do that. “There!” he said, pointing forward. His brothers grinned, and they ran towards the ride.

Once seated in the red and yellow car with their lap bars down, L created a tiny portal over the control panel. Reaching through, he fiddled with the buttons until he managed to find the one that started the ride. The boys let out another cheer as the rollercoaster began to climb its tracks, moving up towards the dark, star-filled sky. As the stars filled his vision and the ride built up speed, L grinned both in excitement and in pure happiness. 

This was their life now - nothing but fun and freedom, with only the sky being their limit. After everything they had all had to deal with, this really was their true destiny and it didn’t matter if no one else thought so. They had the power to make it a reality, so that was what they were going to do. _This_ was their happy ending, and in a word… It was pretty much perfect.

\------------

\------------

\------------

A stone staircase rose towards a weapon that was still yet incomplete.

With each step, the flames of the candles lit alongside the stairs shivered and flinched as they passed them.

Once they reached the final platform, the Foot Lieutenant took one last look at the object. Even after being made into a humble tea pot, he could feel the power and dark energy within it. The hollow eyes of his master’s mask bore into him, and the Lieutenant grinned back with admiration and pride.

“Glorious,” he whispered. With a kneel, the Foot Lieutenant presented the teapot. The item began to shake and transform, shedding its mundane appearance and revealing its true self before being pulled into the suit, completing its helmet. Rising up, the Lieutenant’s grin became more of a smirk. They were nearly there, they just needed a few more pieces.

“Only a matter of time now,” he heard the Foot Brute say, as if agreeing with his silent sentiments, “And good thing too. You hear about those turtles that have started runnin’ around the city?”

Foot Lt. scoffed. “Yokai, honestly,” he rolled his eyes, “They’re about as troublesome as the humans.” But they would all burn just the same in the burning light of the Foot Flame, just as they did 500 years ago. “Let them run and play while they can, just so long as they stay out of our way. We’ll take care of them soon enough.”

The eyes of the Shredder briefly glowed, a purple light managing to shine through before being snuffed out. “Heh, I think that means that he’s good with that plan too,” Brute chuckled.

“Indeed… Now, you said one of the recruits found another lead?” The night was still young, they could probably track down another piece or two. With how distracted the rest of the city was, too focused on the invading yokai and completely unaware of the true threat lying in the shadows, it really was the perfect opportunity.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> So... yeah. That was a lot, lol.
> 
> Like I said, this whole fic came from me wanting to do my own take on the 'Draxum raises the Turtles' idea - specifically one that focuses more on the Turtles themselves and the impact it has on them rather than Draxum. As you may or may not be able to tell, I was also sorta inspired by stuff like Android 17 and 18 from DBZ, and I even threw in a little bit of Mewtwo from Pokemon. 
> 
> Just the idea of powerful creations becoming not just what their creator wanted, but MORE than what they wanted and using that to their advantage seemed like more interesting to write about than just the Turtles being sad and powerless and Draxum being abusive. Which, speaking of that, I guess I wanted to add a bit of a nuance to him and his side as well.
> 
> A lot of people like to paint Draxum in these scenarios as completely uncaring, cruel and heartless. While he by no means would be a great dad - he would definitely be an awful dad - he also isn't Ozai. He wouldn't be completely abusive, it would be both counter-intuitive for his goals of wanting a strong army as well as just over the top and sorta wrong for him, at least imo? I mean, this is the guy who took one look at his creations and called them "beautiful" while crying, nursed another creation back to health after it cost him his lunch lady award, and gave the Turtles several chances to join him. Draxum obviously cares, even if he still cares more about his goals pre-redemption.
> 
> But yeah, those were my two main points that I wanted to address and explore with this fic. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it - and please leave comments on the fic as well as your own thoughts on AUs like these if you can!


End file.
